Promises, Promises!
by Llinos
Summary: Why did Pippin always wear his scarf? Why did he pledge himself to Denethor? Some promises just have to be kept!
1. Default Chapter

Promises, Promises

Author: Llinos

Beta: Marigold

Chapter 1 – A Youthful Promise

"Merry please be alive! Please, please, please, don't let him be dead! I'll give anything, do anything – only please don't let him die!" Pippin's mind raced like a whirlwind as he tried to think of what he could offer to those in charge of the Overheavens, to whatever great Power ruled over his and Merry's tiny existence, in exchange for his cousin's life.

"I'll give Pervinca my wooden boat that she likes and… and I'll stop being cheeky to Pearl and… and I'll eat carrots and everything else I don't like that's good for me …and I'll do everything Mamma tells me and I won't get into trouble any more so I have to get sent to Papa, I promise, promise, only don't let Merry be dead…"

*******************************************************************

It had been an innocent enough game to start with, although Bluebell the cook at the Great Smials would not have agreed. Pippin had finally managed to wheedle his adored big cousin Meriadoc into playing a game with him and wanted to make it something really exciting. 

Pippin's best game in all the world was to sneak into the big kitchens at his family home and borrow armour from the wonderful shiny metal things that they kept there. The kitchens at the Great Smials was a magnificent affair as befitted hobbits of their standing, numbers and appetites and was exceeding well equipped with copper and iron saucepans, pots, ladles, and cutlery of every kind. Most of these splendid accoutrements hung from the big rack over the range as they dried out nicely there. Pippin was expressly forbidden to touch any of these things. 

"Come on Merry, it'll be fun and I can't reach the armour on my own." Pippin was trying to drag Merry by his coat sleeve. "You're big enough to get us a couple of things down."

"I'm also big enough to know better, Pip." Merry smiled in spite of his cousin's dogged persistence or perhaps because of it; Merry could never be quite sure which. "Oh I'll probably regret this, but all right." Merry found it very difficult to say no to his little cousin's persuasive big green eyes and winsome ways, although this had already got him into more trouble than any other single factor in his 7 years of being Pippin's big cousin.

Stealthily they peered around the kitchen door. Bluebell's snores could be heard coming from the scullery, where she kept a big rocking chair in front of the hearth. Mavis was singing in the kitchen garden, probably tending her herbs, the weeding alone took her hours. The other kitchen servants would be off duty now that the noon meal was done and would not be back until 3.30 ready to make 4 o'clock tea.

"I think we're safe." Pippin breathed. For him the adventures started as soon as he managed to coerce his big cousin into doing something they shouldn't. "It'll be all right if we're quick Merry – I'd best go first." Pippin pulled Merry into the kitchen behind him, his confidence never lacking, it was one of the things Merry liked about him.

Carefully, Merry unwound the rope that lowered the rack with all the utensils to hobbit level and then tied it off as Cook would do. Pippin then took charge. "Here's your helmet Merry," Pip said handing the older lad a saucepan, "and I'll have the holey thing."

"It's called a colander Pip," Merry laughed as he tried the copper pot on for size. "If you get injured in that, all your brains will pour out – that's if you have any."

"Oh yes," Pippin giggled, "and all the blood and gore, just think how scrumptious that would be Merry, brains and blood and goo all mixed up and splattered."

"You ghastly little tyke," Merry was used to Pippin's gruesome approach to play, it was typical of seven year olds – he'd been the same at Pip's age. "Just be careful and let's get out of here before Cook wakes up."

Once suitably attired, the rack was hoisted back up to its airy perch and the two hobbit lads scuttled off to the barn. "Bags I'm the Armies of the West, and you can be the Men of Lake Town." Pippin declared, waving his sword, more recently employed as a toasting fork, in his cousin's face.

"No! I'm the Elven warriors of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, come to vanquish you mortal intruders from our Realm." Merry clashed his mighty sword, the shiny poker from the kitchen range, against his cousin's toasting fork. "This is Glamdring, the goblin cleaver, prepare to be routed, Armies of the West!"

"And this is Sting! The most famous sword of the great hero Bilbo Baggins of the Shire." Pippin declared bravely, "First I shall spear you and then you will be toasted to a crisp."

"You shall not penetrate my mighty armour." Merry tapped his breastplate of a roasting-pan tied on with string, "nor shall your pathetic weapon touch my pate for it carries the helm of Kings!" It was indeed a grand hat, a large copper saucepan with the handle turned to the back.

"And I have the Crown of the Kingdom of Arnor," Pippin pushed his colander back up on to his forehead as it had a tendency to slip down over one eye. "See Merry, I remembered what Uncle Gandalf sayed." All hobbit children considered it a rare treat to hear a story from the wandering wizard. Although many parents did not approve of him filling their off-springs' heads with notions, the Tooks were more tolerant of him than many and Pippin had always listened avidly. 

"Well Gandalf says you lost!" Merry poked his sword at Pippin's buckler, otherwise known as Cook's second best cake tin. "And you're going to lose again. Take that you varlet!" 

The two cousins began to spar in earnest with their pretend weapons, Merry had the longer reach but, being older tended to be more restrained, thwacking on Pippin's armour, rather than on his cousin's person. Pippin was more exuberant and caught up in the battle. He was constantly frustrated by Merry's ability to sidestep his frenzied onslaughts and bat him on the backside as he rushed past to end up in the hay. 

Merry could barely keep his balance for laughing as he pulled the Crowned King of Arnor by his curly haired feet out of the manger where he had once more ended up head first. "Bad luck your Kingship!" The Elven warriors of King Thranduil declared. "Do you wish to surrender your Kingdom and Crown yet?"

"Never!" His Majesty cried. "I won't surrender!" Pippin fished the colander out of the straw and placed his crown firmly back on his head. "Not while I am the Ruler of the Northern Kingdom. I shall set my dragon on you, Elven traitor!"

"You can't have a dragon!" Merry the Elven Armies gasped. "That's not in the game."

"It's my game, so I can say what's in it." Pippin pouted. "And I want a dragon, because how can I win you else Merry?" he added plaintively.

"Well who are you going to get to be the dragon?" Merry asked logically, "There's only us playing, unless Bluebell finds us, then she'll definitely be the dragon!"

"Oh my dragon is going to be even fiercer than Cook," Pippin declared grandly, "it will have eyes like big fried eggs and be all scaly with long sharp teeth like a monster pike fish and… and all covered in green slimy gloop and breathing fire and…and you won't see it coming because it's **_invisuabull_**!"

"That sounds like the kind of dragon that could rout Elven Armies Pip… I mean your Royal Kingness, but I'll still be able to see it – nothing can go invisible."

"Oh look it's there!" Pippin gesticulated with his sword-come-toasting-fork, jumping up and down and pointing just above and behind Merry's head. "Really Merry – quick! Run!"

The alarm in Pippin's voice was so sudden and sounded so real that Merry actually jumped and turned hastily round to look. Pippin wasted no time and bowled his whole body, colander, armour and all, into his cousin's turned back. Merry, taken off guard, fell forward, hard, cracking his saucepan-covered head against the cobblestones of the barn entrance. 

Pippin's momentum had carried him down, to land on top of Merry and he crowed with delight at his victory, "Aha Merry, King Thranduil's army! Do you surrender? I will be merciful if you surrender now." Pippin sat astride his cousin brandishing his toasting fork. "I win! I win… Merry… Merry? I win – don't I? Merry say I win. Stop teasing Merry, it's not fair, you have to say I win!" Pippin leant forward to touch Merry on the cheek with the back of his fingers, "Merry? Merry why don't you answer?" Pippin suddenly felt a dread fear clutch at his heart. Merry was very still. Then Pippin's stalled heart clenched into a pounding thump as he saw a thin stream of blood emerging from under the saucepan. "Merry!" Pippin screamed now, his panic growing with his fear for his cousin.

Not knowing if it were the right thing to do or not, he grabbed the saucepan and pulled it off Merry's head, but this just caused the blood to flow copiously and as he turned Merry's face around, Pippin could now see a black bruise underneath the bloodied spot on his cousin's temple. Merry still did not move – his eyes were shut and his face deathly white. What had he done? Had he killed his own cousin? It was just supposed to be a game that's all, just a game! "Merry! Oh Merry!"

Pippin knew for certain the next thing he had to do. He leapt to his feet and ran for the smial. And as he ran he prayed.

"Merry please be alive! Please, please, please, don't let him be dead! I'll give anything, do anything – only please don't let him die!" Pippin's mind raced like a whirlwind as he tried to think of what he could offer to those in charge of the Overheavens, to whatever great Power ruled over his and Merry's tiny existence, in exchange for his cousin's life.

"I'll give Pervinca my wooden boat that she likes and… and I'll stop being cheeky to Pearl and… and I'll eat carrots and everything else I don't like that's good for me …and I'll do everything Mamma tells me and I won't get into trouble any more so I have to get sent to Papa, I promise, promise, only don't let Merry be dead…"

The first hobbit Pippin found was Mavis, still singing in the herb garden. "Mavis! Mavis – please come quickly! I think Merry's dead! Please he's terrible hurted!" Pippin still got his words a bit muddled when he was distressed. 

"I'll go and get Cook Master Pip, you show us where he is." Mavis quickly roused Bluebell, who sent the lass in search of the Mistress or the Master and, pausing only to grab a large towel and a roll of bandage, hurried after Pippin as fast as her bulk would allow.

Pippin stood wringing his hands, too terrified to get close to Merry's stilled body and yet too anxious to look away. "Please let him be all right! I'll do everything I should. I promise on my honour. I won't stamp my foot, I'll eat carrots until I look like them and I won't dip Pimmie's plaits in the custard again. Only don't let Merry… please he can't be…no… please…" The tears were pouring down Pippin's cheeks now as his mother arrived on the scene closely followed by Mavis. Eglantine did not stop to comfort Pippin, but rushed past her sobbing son to where Cook was cradling Merry and, having staunched the blood, was patting his cheek and trying to get him to respond.

"Come on lad, open your eyes," Bluebell flicked her fingers against Merry's face now, trying to get a response out of him. "He's awful still Mistress."

Eglantine took Merry's wrist and felt for his pulse, then pulled back an eyelid looking for movement. "Merry? Merry, can you hear me dear? It's Auntie Eg, open your eyes now, there's a good child." She turned to the maid, "I'm not sure Mavis, he's not coming round. You'd better go at once for the Healer – quick as you can."

Pippin thought he had stopped breathing although he could hear every pounding beat of his heart thumping in his ears. His eyes never left Merry and now he crept slowly forward and knelt to take Merry's other hand – it felt cold. Pippin shivered. He had promised every thing he could think of to the Fates that guided life and death, he had nothing left that was his to give, only his undying love for his precious cousin. 

Pippin desperately ran through his mind what would be the worst thing he could put himself through and he would do it, if it meant Merry could live. There really wasn't much he could offer and then, as if from outside of himself, a thought floated unbidden into his grieving mind. Pimmie's scarf! 

His sister Pimpernel had made him a scarf for her birthday. It was her first attempt at serious knitting and the colours were a little dull and the edges were a trifle wobbly. But Pippin had thanked her and then put it away, never to be worn. Scarves were for old hobbit gaffers and gammas and little children, the bigger lads would certainly laugh at him if he wore a scarf, even in cold weather. But still it had seemed a little ungrateful. Suddenly it was clear to Pippin what was required of him. 

Holding Merry's hand and stroking it tenderly he whispered to his big cousin and to the Heavens, "I'll wear that silly scarf that Pimmie made for me – every day, even with my best jacket… I'll wear Pimmie's scarf forever, I don't care how stupid it looks, only please Merry," Pippin's voice broke with a sob, "please be alive."

Eglantine did not seem to hear, too engrossed in trying to awaken her nephew. Suddenly Merry groaned and opened his eyes to see Pippin gazing down at him, fear and terror still apparent as were the tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Pip? Auntie? What…?"

"It's all right child, you lie still. You just had a nasty bump on the head. The Healer will be here soon. Don't move Merry, everything's all right."

*******************************************************************

Merry spent the next two days in bed, during which time Pippin barely left his side, except when he was shooed out by the healer or his mother when they felt Merry needed more peace and quiet. Then he would sit doggedly outside the door until he was allowed back in. Esmeralda was not fetched as Merry had begged his Aunt and Uncle not to trouble his parents, although Paladin did write to them explaining that their son had had a little accident but was quite all right. 

Merry was mostly upset that Pippin felt so mortified for what had happened and constantly reassured him that it was an accident and besides it was the saucepan's fault for not protecting his head better. But still Pippin felt guilty and continually told Merry how sorry he was.

Eglantine was worried about both lads, although Merry seemed more distressed by Pippin's guilt than his own injury, he healed rapidly and was deemed fit to go abroad after 2 days of bed rest.

Her own son was more worrying. Eglantine had never seen him so anxious to please, polite and well behaved. He even gave his precious little wooden boat to his sister and he had treasured that toy above every other possession. Then she noticed that he had taken to wearing a scarf, day and night and it was not even cold. Eglantine suspected a fever, thinking that her little one was feeling unduly chilled but, even though the Healer looked him over and declared him physically fit, he continued to wear the scarf that Pimpernel had made him for her birthday on top of whatever else he was wearing.

Bluebell said nothing about the cooking pots.

*******************************************************************

TBC


	2. A Solemn Vow

Promises, Promises  
Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Chapter 2 – A Solemn Vow

Pippin felt that terrible heart pounding sensation as he saw Merry struck down with brutal ferocity. He did not get up again, and Pippin knew he would have if he could, that his cousin would never stop fighting unless he was very badly hurt. What promises could he possibly make now? Now that he was a grown, almost adult hobbit, he understood that there was little he could offer to the Powers that held life and death in Their sway. Gandalf had fallen into the terrible chasm with the Balrog and Pippin had done nothing to intervene. There was nothing he could do, a small and insignificant hobbit who caused more bother than anything else. But he had attempted no bargains nor had he offered his own life in exchange, although had it been asked of him he would have gladly given it. 

Boromir had died and again he had promised nothing. There had been no time. The Uruk-hai had descended upon Merry and him with such speed and ferocity that he had barely time to think, let alone fight back. Bargaining with the Gods had not even been considered. Perhaps that was the fault? Maybe he should have tried harder – done more.

Merry had fought, cleaving several arms off orcs until one mighty great beast had brought the blunt end of his sword down upon his older cousin's brow. Merry had given one short cry and then his body had gone limp as he crumbled to the ground and lay there face down upon the rocks like one of Pippin's sisters' discarded rag dolls. 

Pippin had tried to rush forward but two enormous gnarled hands had grabbed him, one suffocating his cries of anguish and the other clamping around his waist and lifting him off the ground. Now, tied and helpless, he could not even see if Merry were alive or dead. His cousin had been left bleeding from the head and crumpled up on the hard cold stone, to die for all Pippin knew and there was nothing he could do but try to bargain with the Overheavens for Merry's life if it was not already too late.

Maybe if he had fought harder to save Boromir, or offered something of himself instead. Although he did not know it, Pippin had actually been in shock at the time, such violence unprecedented in his life. Even the fight at Weathertop and the battle in the mines of Moria, paled to insignificance next to the unrelenting viciousness of the Uruk-hai at Parth-Galen. 

Pippin felt large hands grab him and he was hoisted up onto an Uruk's back, his bound hands slung around the great grisly neck, his face pushed up hard to the cold unyielding helm on the creature's head. Desperately Pippin tried to look around to see if Merry had been lifted up too, or if his dead body had just been left upon the ground to be trampled. 

No! He was there! Pippin could see him hung from the back of another massive orc. He was pale and appeared lifeless, but he must be alive, why else would the orcs be taking him along. Suddenly Pippin understood why. Hobbit-flesh, presumably was not so different from man-flesh and the orcs… would want… want… no it was too horrible a thought! Merry had to be alive.

Whenever the orc carrying him drew level with his cousin, Pippin would try to call out to Merry, trying frantically to get him to wake up, to show some sign of life, but there was no reaction. Merry remained limp and lifeless throughout the journey as their captors raced over hill and plain, mile after relentless mile.

Suddenly, as he was jostled along, every fibre in his body crying out with pain and misery, the answer came to Pippin! He knew what he must do. Before when he had feared for Merry's life he had made such bargains as he could, had made his tiny offerings until finally he had found something that had been accepted. He had worn the scarf everyday of his life since then. The promise he made now would be much harder to fulfil, but the Gods must know that he would keep it – no matter what.

The sky had grown dark and night had fallen as they neared the outskirts of a great forest. Pippin's aching body hit the ground with force and the little hobbit saw stars that were not in the sky. Painfully he rolled over, frantically trying to locate Merry. His cousin was a little way away from him, up a short slope. Using his bound hands to crawl he dragged himself up the incline until he could see Merry's face, his cousin's eyes were still closed and the horrific wound was still seeping blood.

As he desperately called Merry's name over and over, silently Pippin made his vow to the Heavens. _'When this is over, I promise I shall pay for poor Boromir's life._' Pippin tried to reach his hand to his heart and, although bound, managed to put the tips of his fingers against his chest. _'I vow on all that is precious upon the Earth and all that is sacred in the Overheaven and Sundering Seas, that I will find whosoever Boromir the Brave belonged to and __offer them my life's service in his stead. I will serve them to the end of my days and never breathe a word of why or complain of my bond. I swear on Merry's life, if You would just spare it for me – so that Merry may live. It is the only way I know to give my life for his._'

As the little prayer, with its heartfelt promise, winged its way to the skies above, somewhere in the Heavens a breath stirred and heard the vow and was moved. A flicker of light fell down upon the Earth and a small injured hobbit took a deep shuddering breath.

"Pip?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

_*"Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in payment of my debt." Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew forth his small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet._

End

*From: _Return of the King, J. R. R. Tolkien_


End file.
